


Things That Live and Grow

by owlpockets



Category: Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/F, Femslash Big Bang Monthly Challenge, Gardens & Gardening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-10-12 15:42:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10494129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlpockets/pseuds/owlpockets
Summary: Sigrun realizes her late-night fantasies about her incredibly attractive elven companion might not be so far-fetched after all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Gardening and erotica? No, _gardening erotica_. 
> 
> Written for the FSBB March prompt, "fantasy." Beta'd by ImaginAries.

“What is the point of men? I mean,” Velanna sloshed a bit of ale down her front. It glistened on her partially bared breasts and Sigrun had a very vivid, thirty-second hallucination about licking it off. “What is the _point_?”

At Velanna’s side, Justice nodded and responded gravely, “An excellent question.” 

On Velanna’s other side, Nathaniel was visibly uncomfortable, stiff-backed and casting his gaze around the room, perhaps looking for an easy escape route. Sigrun grinned salaciously across the table, but she thought he missed it, or at least chose not to react. “Now, I’m not totally sure about this, so correct me if I’m wrong...but I suspect...it might have something to do with...making babies? Is that how it works up here on the surface?”

“Waste of time,” Velanna muttered around the lip of her mug. “Overrun with human spawn already.”

Justice hummed thoughtfully. Sigrun raised her mug in agreement and decided her late-night fantasies about her incredibly attractive elven companion might not be so far-fetched after all.  
__

That year was Sigrun’s first experience with spring on the surface, and it was glorious. Everything delighted her, from the new baby deer hidden in the woods to the cool, muddy puddles just begging to be walked through barefoot. Like most of her Warden companions, she had a hard time being indoors for a wide variety of reasons, not the least of which was that it had been a particularly harsh winter. Sigrun didn’t know about that (the endless snow was a novelty that had yet to wear off), but she did know that spring agreed with her in ways that made her want to laugh at the sun simply because she could.

Leaving her boots and weapons behind, Sigrun headed out into the makeshift training yard, enticed by the fresh, tender blades of grass shooting up after a few days of consistent rain. The Commander raised an eyebrow at her bare toes as they passed each other in the doorway, but Sigrun just grinned and saluted by way of explanation. Brosca’s chuckle drifted back to her as she stepped out into the sunshine.

Sigrun dug her feet into the grass and took a deep breath, promptly inhaled a bug, and unsuccessfully attempted to cough it back out. Well, the day couldn’t be _too_ perfect or there would be less cause to appreciate the best parts, she decided. 

Movement caught her eye and Sigrun saw a fluffy, ginger tail retreating around a sharp corner of the keep immediately to her right. She followed and discovered Anders seated on the ground and leaning against the wall while he tossed around knotted up scrap of cloth on a string for his cat to chase. 

Sigrun reached down to stroke Ser Pounce-a-lot’s velvety ears when he paused to gloat after catching the toy. He nuzzled into her hand and she didn’t even try to stop the wordless coo that escaped her lips. “I can’t believe you get any work done with this one around.”

“I know, isn’t he just so disgustingly charming?” Anders wrinkled his nose over a fond smile.

Sigrun dropped down into the grass, laying on her stomach and coming up nose-to-nose with the kitten. He sniffed all over her face in tiny puffs of air and then suddenly attacked the loose strands of hair falling over her forehead. “Aww, such a brave little hunter already,” she said fondly. “You should get him some tiny armor.”

Anders laughed, but agreed, “That might not be a bad idea, considering.”

“And it would be pretty cute.” When Pounce tired of her hair and began stalking unseen insects in the grass, Sigrun propped herself up on her elbows and noticed Velanna in the distance, busily working the small patch of yard the Commander had reluctantly granted her to start a garden. Sigrun knew nothing of growing plants and, like most new things in her world, she found it fascinating. That Velanna also looked fascinating in her dirt-streaked gardening smock with her hair braided over one shoulder was a happy bonus.

Entranced, Sigrun could feel herself floating to her feet and moving across the yard to where Velanna was working. She was laying down on the freshly tilled ground while Velanna dug around her with her bare hands, planting seeds and coaxing shoots out of the ground with her magic. Sigrun could feel the magic moving through the soil under her; it tingled gently against her skin. Should she take her clothes off? Yes. Now Velanna was rubbing damp soil all over her breasts and stomach with her lovely, filthy hands.

A boot prodding her thigh brought Sigrun back to reality. “You’re daydreaming about something, and I fully intend to weasel it out of you.” The foot belonged to Anders, of course, and he raised an eyebrow while retracing her line of sight, blanching when he noticed Velanna. “You’ve got to be joking.”

Sigrun sat up, feeling a bit of heat rise to her cheeks. “Completely serious. I kind of want her rub dirt all over me. Not that it matters.”

Anders looked skeptical. “Why wouldn’t it matter? Aside from her being totally frigid.”

“She doesn’t seem like the type to be into dead girls. She likes…” She paused and realized she didn’t really know much about Velanna, other than she had a little sister and harbored a dislike for humans in the general sense that Sigrun couldn’t blame her for. “I don’t know, things that live and grow.”

“Are you likely to do much more of that?” Anders blurted out.

Sigrun stared at him for an uncomfortably long time. “Are your balls ever likely to drop?”

Anders put his hands up defensively. “In case you haven’t realized yet, you’re not _actually_ dead. As your healer, I think I would have noticed.”

“I know that, but…” But what? Sigrun couldn’t find words to express her hesitation at acting on her feelings. Her life before the Legion seemed an eternity away and awfully complicated. With knowing it was not likely you would physically die the next day, rejection sounded unpleasant and embarrassing for all parties involved, especially ones that had to live and work together.

Anders shrugged, then picked up Pounce as he stood to leave. “You should go over there and see if she needs any ‘help.’ Me, I’d prefer to be suffocated slowly under a pile of naked darkspawn corpses. Good luck.”

“Good talk, very uplifting,” Sigrun grumbled, pulling up tufts of grass with her fingers while making no move to stand.


	2. Chapter 2

That night, Sigrun had a vivid dream about thorny brambles that was at once arousing and disturbing. The canes wrapped around her wrists and ankles, poking into her skin to draw tiny drops of blood that transformed into flower petals as they fell away from her into the grass. She woke up sweaty and too early, the humidity clinging uncomfortably to her skin until she opened the door to her room to let in a crossbreeze.

Sigrun went out into the training yard again after breakfast, even with the heavy threat of rain. Velanna was out as well, hurrying to erect little makeshift tents over her seedlings. Sigrun eyed her indirectly across the yard while she mulled over her options. “Ancestors, relationships on the surface are complicated,” Sigrun cursed quietly, but out loud.

Velanna must have heard her, because she chose that moment to look up and around, spotting Sigrun with something halfway between a frown and a scowl on her face. It was a good look on her, somehow, especially with the dirt smudged on her cheeks. “You _could_ help, you know,” Velanna said loudly as she turned back to her work.

Now that she had been spotted and acknowledged, Sigrun had no choice but to go talk to her to avoid looking like a complete ass. She stood at the edge of the bare soil, the tips of her toes uncertainly creeping over the edge of the grass. “Uh, okay. What do I do?”

“Here,” Velanna thrust a wad of canvas cloth scraps at her. “Prop it up with sticks like I’ve been doing. There’s no time for anything fancy, a too much rain might ruin these sprouts.”

“Aren’t plants supposed to like rain?” Sigrun genuinely didn’t know, but she had a rudimentary understanding from a book she once read on agriculture, though admittedly it had been painfully boring and she hadn’t gotten past the first chapter. She shook out the rags and grabbed a handful of sticks from Velanna’s pile. 

Velanna looked like she was about to snap at her, but then her expression softened a little when she looked over at Sigrun’s face. “Yes, but ulmaria normally grow under the shelter of large trees. I’ve never tried to cultivate them out in the open before.”

Stepping carefully, Sigrun picked her way over to the patch of seedlings, trying not to disturb any of the other neatly made mounds. Each area was marked with a different color of string tied to a stick, and she guessed it was a way of keeping track of what was planted where. For a moment, Sigrun watched Velanna work closely, and noticed that her structures were clumsier than she was expecting, though perhaps it made sense since she was learning how to muddle through with unfamiliar tools and without the support of her clan. Sigrun would do her best to make sturdy shelters as Velanna did.

The plants were a cheerful green color, with two neatly rounded leaves on swaying white stems. They were arranged in dense rows, and Sigrun could not help but wonder what they would feel like brushing against her palm, though she was afraid of hurting the tiny things. “They look so soft. Can I touch them?”

“No!” Velanna said sharply, reaching over to grab Sigrun’s wrist where she was hovering over the seedlings. The grip was hot and tight, but she let go quickly, a confused and sheepish look passing over her features. “When they’re a bit bigger you can.”

Sigrun grinned at her and started poking her sticks into the ground instead. “I’ll hold you to that.”

They finished the shelters with seconds to spare. Fat droplets of rain startled Sigrun as they started hitting the top of her head; Velanna didn’t seem phased at all by the change in weather, and moved calmly to gather her tools into a rough burlap bag. With a last check on her handiwork, Sigrun stepped out of the garden, a laugh bubbling up as the rain poured down her face and a lazy roll of thunder echoed within the stone walls.

The two women made a dash for the keep just as the clouds decided to unleash a tremendous waterfall of rain, but they didn’t make it in time to avoid getting soaked through. Sigrun leaned against the doorframe, wanting to stay close to Velanna yet unable to quell her fascination with the storm. There was enough of an overhang that she was only getting mildly splashed, not that it mattered much with her clothes dripping a large puddle on the floor. “This is wild, I’ve never seen a storm like this before.”

A few of their tents listed dangerously, and one collapsed. Velanna sighed heavily, watching her garden quickly turning into a bog under the torrential downpour. “I hope the seeds aren’t being washed away. That would be a lot of work wasted.”

“So do you ever make them grow? You know, with magic?” Sigrun emphasized the last word with a wiggle of her fingers. The question had been tickling the back of her mind ever since her afternoon daydream the day before, and she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“No, it doesn’t work like that. Only plants that are already living understand the call of my magic.” Velanna wrung the water out of her hair as she explained. “We are part of nature. It responds to us as an equal, not as a slave.”

“I’m not sure I understand, but it sounds pretty.” Sigrun smiled. “I guess it’s similar to what my people believe about the Stone, but more practical.”

“We should exchange stories sometime. I would like to hear more about your people,” Velanna said. “I know very little about dwarves.”

A swell of warmth spread through Sigrun’s chest; Velanna had been slow to warm up to her and she wanted to believe this newfound camaraderie wasn’t merely because she had helped rescue the garden. “Yeah, that would be nice. Come on, let’s go raid the kitchen for tea and leftover rolls. Rain makes me hungry!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this last part took forever!!

The seeds were nearly all washed away. Velanna swore, kicked the shed door, and swore again for a very different reason when it swung back with a significant amount of force and bruised her foot. Sigrun looked down glumly at the broken stems of the seedlings that had been crushed by the relentless wind or hastily constructed shelters. She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to feel sad about plants, but it was a shame to see all of Velanna’s careful tending come to naught.

“Some of them survived,” Sigrun pointed out.

Velanna was bending over to rub her foot. She snorted.

“I’ll help you replant,” Sigrun offered.

Velanna didn’t respond, and looked a bit like she would rather give up or ignore the problem for another day.

“Come on, it’ll be nice,” Sigrun persuaded. A cool spring breeze ruffled her hair and she gave a wide, hopeful grin. “And it’ll go faster with two.”

“Well…” Velanna hesitated, but her expression had changed from stormy to a thoughtful frown. “Alright, I see your point.”

“Ready when you are,” Sigrun said eagerly. “Just show me what to do.”

Velanna looked skeptical, but she grabbed a container of seeds from the shed and started to demonstrate her technique. “Okay, well, you press your pinky finger into the soil about this deep….” 

Her fingertip looked like it was barely scraping the surface and Sigrun could not resist such an easy target. “Really? That's deep enough?”

Velanna stopped and sat back on her heels. “What are you insinuating?”

“Oh, um, nothing,” Sigrun replied quickly. Clearly, her joke had been misguided, but it was worth the narrowed glare Velanna was currently giving her. She hurried to follow the instructions, looking down at the ground and trying to keep the smile off her face.

Within minutes, their feet were caked in mud, which Velanna didn’t seem to notice, but in which Sigrun reveled delightedly. The stuff squelched between her toes; she had left her shoes behind again for this purpose. Her soles were soft and sensitive from wearing boots her entire adult life and the mud tickled her feet, sending shivers up her legs and into her hips. The repetitive movement of planting the seeds allowed Sigrun’s mind to linger on the sensation, and she remembered the vivid image of herself and Velanna in the dirt she had conjured up before.

And then, Sigrun stepped wrong. She slipped in a puddle that didn’t look as deep and slippery as it was, and when she fell it was right into Velanna’s backside where she was bending over her work. With an undignified screech, Velanna twisted to the side to avoid going face first into the muck, and they both landed in a tangle of dirty limbs. Sigrun silently thanked the Ancestors for her amazing luck when her handed landed right on Velanna’s well-shaped thigh.

After a moment of stunned silence (in which she didn’t move her hand), Sigrun lifted her head and said sheepishly, “I’m so sorry. Being on the surface makes me unnaturally clumsy, I guess. At least it’s mud and not darkspawn guts?”

Velanna grunted in reply, not bothering to lift her head, “That’s something.” There was mud all through her hair.

“Are you alright?” Sigrun asked. The warmth of Velanna’s body was seeping into hers, tempting her to move her hand, stroke the top of her thigh through her loose, roughspun trousers. Her thumb twitched.

“Yes, just...very dirty.” Velanna did lift her head then, looking down her body at Sigrun with a curious expression.

A hoot followed by some scattered laughter drifted down from the battlements, and Velanna suddenly pushed her off and scooted away, scowling. Sigrun was disappointed, but she could also feel her face turning red at the thought of an audience.

They finished their work quickly, speaking only of the task at hand, and parted ways. Velanna thanked Sigrun with a friendly distance that left her feeling dissatisfied and restless the rest of the day. She didn’t see Velanna again until the next morning when passing by her open door on the way to the training yard.

Sigrun hesitated and watched Velanna from the shadows for a moment. She had been making potions, sitting cross-legged on the woven rug by her bed. She had washed her hair, of course, and it was loose down her back, gleaming in the morning sunlight. Mesmerized, Sigrun thought she could watch her days.

“I know you’re there,” Velanna suddenly said. “Come in or move on.”

Sigrun started, then stepped into the room. “Sorry. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not,” Velanna said. Her tone was neutral and Sigrun couldn’t tell if she was glad to see her or not. She swept some herbs out of the way. “Here, sit with me.”

The tiny thread of anxiety tangling in Sigrun’s gut eased. She sat and started picking up ingredients or bottles to look at for something to do with her hands. Velanna grabbed them after her and put them away in various pouches and boxes, except for one, which she uncapped and stuck her fingers in.

At once, Sigrun was utterly enchanted by the smell coming from whatever Velanna was now rubbing on her hands. “What is that? It smells amazing.” She leaned over Velanna’s arm to get a second whiff, but she elbowed her away.

“If you could wait a moment I would show you,” Velanna griped. She continued to thoroughly rub her hands together until the oily sheen had dulled, then she held out the small ceramic container. “It’s a Dalish recipe. Good for the skin.”

There was a pile of off-white cream inside that smelled strongly of rosemary and something medicinal, sharp and fresh in Sigrun’s nostrils. “Can I try it?”

“Yes,” Velanna said quickly. A rosy blush bloomed high on her cheeks, and Sigrun wondered if she knew how pretty she looked like that. “It will keep your hands from getting rough after working in the garden.”

Sigrun took a big glob, probably too much for her small hands, but the smell was too enticing to pass up. It reminded her so much of Velanna herself, and she wondered if that’s because her friend was always using this type of oil. The feeling was reminiscent of the mud on her feet, though not as thick. She ended up having to rub it all the way up to her elbows to use all of it, chuckling at herself. Velanna was watching her silently, hands clasped over her crossed legs.

“Is there more gardening to work on today?” Sigrun asked. “I promised the Commander I’d train with her this morning, but after….”

Velanna’s expression was still unreadable, but she answered, “Yes, I’d like that.”

__

“Are you interested in me…romantically?” Velanna asked bluntly one day at breakfast. 

At the other end of the table, the Commander raised her eyebrows over the sheaf of reports in her hand, mug of tea halfway to her lips in her other hand. Sigrun had just stuffed her mouth full of food in an epically poor display of timing. She supposed she was incredibly lucky it was only the three of them at the table.

Sigrun chewed furiously while Velanna stared at her in curious expectation. At least she didn’t seem upset or angry. Perhaps...perhaps...she should have seen this coming. The offers of help, the innuendo, the unnecessary touches--Velanna was, naturally, not naive enough to miss all of Sigrun’s clumsy flirting, however much she tried to pretend to ignore it.

Finally, Sigrun’s mouth was clear and she didn’t have a single eloquent thing to say. Instead, she merely answered, “Yeah?”

“I see,” Velanna replied. She sipped from her mug, eyes trained down to a knot in the wood of the table.

Sigrun’s stomach dropped, wondering if she had messed up everything, if Velanna would still want to be friends. “Is that...is that bad?”

“No. I also like you…romantically,” Velanna finally said over her mug. 

Commander Brosca made a quick escape from the table with her tea and papers, leaving a half-eaten plate of breakfast behind.

Though she wasn’t looking at Sigrun, Velanna’s face was beet red. Under the table her toes found their way to Sigrun’s bare shin sticking out of her cropped trousers. She stroked her foot down through the coarse hair to rest on top of Sigrun’s slippered foot. Velanna’s toes were calloused and rough, but warm, and the feel of them against her skin did interesting things to Sigrun’s insides. She grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> ...I fully intended to make this a one-shot, but then it got a little out of hand, and I decided to at least get part one done for the monthly challenge, oops.


End file.
